Come to the garden, in the early spring,
Should you keep silence, I’ll touch your skin,
Please, turn the other cheek, so soft and kind,
And I will touch your face with gentle wind.
Across the flavoured meadows, crying vices,
Through souls of others, tears and smiles,
Across the salty seas I sent this wind,
So I could reach you through the thousand miles.
Come listen to my song, in many voices,
I am the sound of birds, which you can’t see.
Don’t think if you performed the perfect choices
Leave all your doubts and sleep under the tree.
Thin branches tremble, push the bees away,
To keep your peace contented, out of sway.
The leaves will touch and hug you, slightly lean,
I am the spring, but yet, I can’t be seen.